Friday, September 19, 2008

beat your greens

Day 22 of 365 in the “Marathon of the Dope” . . .

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So I took yesterday (sunny and warm) off from work to do some necessary jobs around the house.

Yard work being one of them.

The one I hate the most. Doing laser eye surgery on myself with a pointer ranks only slightly higher on the “do not want to do” list.

Anyhow, the basement windows, patching and sanding for today’s caulking and painting, were nothing compared to tackling those hideous growths in my yard - bushes and weeds.

Not sure which is the worse of the two. The bushes we have grow like weeds, and the weeds we have are the size of bushes . . .

If it were not for my wife I would just have used the time honored method of land clearing - slash and burn - or better still - nuke it from orbit, it’s the only way to be sure.

However, cooler heads prevailed and we divvied up the tasks of weed/bush management such that the offending plants would survive.

Since one incredibly huge growth of a bush blocks three of our house’s windows, it needed to be dealt with before it became so large and old as to be protected under Canada’s “old growth forest” laws.

Guess I drew the short straw.

So, armed with a hand saw, a pair of work gloves and a desire to do harm, I stood just out of reach of the monstrosity planning my course of attack. Looking at the damn thing I half expected a Forestal or Treant to stride out and declare my presence with sharp objects unwanted . . .

. . . it did not happen outside of my mind.

After many minutes of hacking my way into the thing, I discovered the long buried window which has, for years, never shed any light into my lair downstairs where I game and write. I suppose it was akin to Carter finding Tut’s tomb . . .

. . . well, maybe not that dramatic.

Long story short - it took me a good hour the hack the beast down into bush size again and clear the three windows of the house. It took anther hour to chop the choppings up and put them in compost bags for today’s pickup.

After all that sweating and cutting and cursing, I stood on the lawn . . .

The lawn which is in need of a mow.

Lawns are my second most hated residential menace . . .

So, instead of mowing it like I should have - I headed to the beer store for a case.

What do you expect - I’m Canadian.

And now my lair actually has some light spilling into it - a most unusual thing which is going to take some getting used to.

Oh, and just a head’s up - posts are going to start appearing here in the evenings starting this Monday. My novel editing plan is not functioning as it should.

Until tomorrow then.

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